


Jack-Jack Attack

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Gen, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27744952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: One Cardiff, two Jacks
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	Jack-Jack Attack

**Author's Note:**

> So my cousin has this absolute bitch of a cat who is also the most beautiful bastard, so this fic is for him, that little shit

Jack slammed his fist against the door in what could technically be classified as a knock. It rang in the small hallway, and Jack crossed his arms, waiting. Half a minute passed before the door opened a crack.

“What do you want?” John said, peering through the gap. Jack was instantly on guard. John had opened the door fully nude before; he didn’t care. The fact that he was keeping it closed meant he was hiding something.

“You’re late,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t have offered you a job if I thought you were going to slack off.” 

“I’m not slacking off,” John protested. “I just overslept. Four am Weevil chases take a lot out of a guy.” He had a point there. “Give me five. I’ll get dressed and meet you at the car.” John went to close the door, but Jack put his foot in the gap. 

“I smell blood.” And he did. It was faint, but there was the unmistakable coppery tang. John’s eyes went wide for all of a second, but then he smiled.

“Relax. I just nicked myself shaving.” Jack frowned.

“I thought you just woke up.”

“No, I said I overslept. There’s a difference,” John said. He glared pointedly down at Jack’s foot. “Now if you don’t mind-” There was a moment of glaring, and then Jack drew his foot back. John smiled and slammed the door. Jack sighed and waited.

Five minutes later, John still hadn’t emerged. He knocked again, but nothing. Jack rolled his eyes. He could be so fussy. The man wore shirts that were more stain than fabric, but heaven forbid his hair not be perfect.

Jack was about to give up and go wait in the car when he heard shattering glass followed by swearing. Trouble. Jack grabbed the doorknob and was relieved to find John had left it unlocked. (Sloppy. He was getting old. Maybe he really had overslept.)

“You little shit!” John’s voice. Coming from the kitchen. Irritated but not scared. Jack entered the flat quietly, hand resting on his holster. What sort of trouble had John gotten himself into now?

Jack whirled around the corner, and his eyes went wide. John was dressed but coatless and bare-footed on the tile, broken glass scattered around his feet. He had a knife in his hand, but it wasn’t pointed at Jack. It was pointed at a cat sitting on the counter.

Jack’s first thought was that it was a very pretty cat. Silky gray and white fur, sharp green eyes, even sharper claws. His second thought was-

“When the hell did you get a cat?” John turned the knife on him, but Jack just smiled.

“I told you I would be down in five,” John hissed. “Get out and wait for me.”

“No,” Jack said simply. John muttered something under his breath and put the knife back in its holster. “The cat?”

“Is a little bitch.” He held up his arm, and Jack flinched at the several-inch scratch still welling up blood. “I didn’t even do anything. Watch.” John slowly held out his hand toward the cat. It sniffed his fingers, then bit him, a paw grappling around his wrist as if attempting to pin him down.

“Ow,” Jack said. John pulled his hand back and rubbed his thumb over the mark.

“He’s just playing. With teeth.” John laughed. “I’ve only had him a couple weeks; he’ll get used to me.”

“How’d you get a cat?” Without Jack knowing about it. 

“Used to belong to the lady across the hall,” John said, gesturing with a thumb. “She bit it, and her relatives didn’t wanna take him in.” He reached toward the cat again and started to pet him. He let out a disgruntled meow but allowed it. “So I kept him.”

“Aw, you’ve got a soft spot for the little kitty,” Jack teased lightly. John glared at him. “It’s sweet.”

“You never liked sweet,” John murmured, still stroking the cat. “If you had, you wouldn’t have given me a second look. And then where would we be?”

“Someplace different, that’s for sure,” Jack said. He reached out his own hand to the cat, then yanked it back when he was snapped at. “So, what’s his name?”

“Jack.”

“What?”

“No, that’s his name. Jack,” John clarified. Jack gave his feline copycat a look.

“I’m not sure if I should be honored, offended, or just plain ole creeped out,” he said. John chuckled.

“He came with the name. I tried to change it, but it didn’t take. Guess he likes being a Jack.”

“So do I,” Jack said. He held out his hand again, slower. Jack the cat sniffed his hand, then licked his fingers, the action not soft but still affectionate. Good kitty. “So do I.” And then the cat bit him. “Ow!”

“The name is fitting,” John said with a smirk. “He’s a pretty little bitch.”

“You’re not a comedian,” Jack muttered, resisting the urge to suck on his bitten finger. John would only tease. “We have to get to work. Put some shoes on, and let’s go.”

“You go; I’ll meet you there,” John said with the wave of a hand.

“Alright, I’ll see you at the Hub,” Jack said. He gave the cat a final pet, delighted to find his fur was as soft as it looked. What a good kitty.

“The little bastard broke my favorite cup, but he can’t clean it up with his tiny little paws. Little shit making me do the dirty work. Yes, you’re a little bitch, aren’t you, Jack?” Jack tried not to laugh at the cooing tone his former partner had adopted as he picked up the shards of glass. Apparently, he wasn’t the only Jack capable of stealing John’s heart.


End file.
